2005-01-07 - 6:36 p.m.
I don't know why I can be surprised by the dumbest things.
I'm not happy.
Which seems like such a stupid thing to say. Lots of people aren't happy. I think most of the people who post on the site aren't happy. And really, one has to wonder, is happiness such a big deal?
I'm not especially depressed. I'm not suicidal, by any means. I continue in the same emotionally numb state I've existed for about 18 months now. I'm just...not happy.
I remember happy. I remember feeling like my life had finally begun. That the thread of narrative had been picked up by whatever cosmic author does such things. But what happens to a character once the story has passed?
I find myself hoping no one asks, and secretly dreading/expecting that they will. Because then I'll have to admit it aloud. And then I'll feel like I have to do something about it, and frankly, I'm all out of ideas.
I always think of Ada's Mexican doll, the one with the friendship bracelet like a noose (boy, what a metaphor there!) and the inscription "happiness is now you". It was such a zen doll, a zen moment, perfect in what it is.
If only I could say the same about me.
